Bringing that devil may care aesthetic to Hofstra, The Followers of Dionysus are here. Sporting clothes drenched in sweat and vomit, smelling of Four Loko, these thirsty youngsters are just looking for a good time. So if you are looking for a time you probably won’t remember look no further because this is what you’re looking for.

#4 The Children of Baphomet

We all know that black is coming back this year and so do The Children. These stylish hell spawn worshipping heathens dawning fabulous black robes and a fetching pentagram carved in their chests know how to keep it classy. Keeping up with the hot trends of beheading your enemies and selling your immortal soul for earthly pleasures this club is heading for the big times. So if you’re looking for your dream to be fulfilled simply sacrifice a goat and chant the Hofstra almamater and join The Children of Baphomet.

#3 Stuart’s Goblin Army

It seems our President Stuart “Rootin Tootin” Rabinowitz himself has been instrumental in the foundation of this cult. Stuart’s Goblin Army is hitting the scene in style; sporting that business casual look with blazers and converse with pockets overflowing with embezzled club funds. These cute red skinned, sharp tusked little buggers are so devoted Goblin King Stuart Rabinowitz that they get their foreskin sewed back on to resemble their leader. So if you’re ready to be replaced by a little red imp monster and spend the rest of your time here at Hofstra locked away in the dungeon of Hofstra Hall than simply run for election into Stuart’s Goblin Army.

#2 Hofstra Versus Zombies

HVZ, need I say more, these guys know how to bring glamour back to Hofstra. Of course to really get to know these guys you best be in HVZ because they tend to stick together. Keeping it hip in their fedoras, face paint, and those absolutely dashing Attack on Titan capes these guys take to Hofstra’s campus in a big way. Even if you don’t know them personally they’ll make sure to let you know they’re there because those nerf darts are going to hit you if the members don’t run into you first. So if you’re ready to have the whole campus looking at you, join HVZ.

#1 Nonsense Humor

If self-indulgence were style, these kicky youngsters would be Jacqueline Onassis. Dressed in the finest silks that probably have their club name on them or something, these kids sure know how to let you know they exist. Super meta, these people are the best known cult on campus—breaking down what it really means to be a cult. Traditionally, cults are meant to be secretive, so shouting about boners on the unispan dressed like an indie rock singer may seem counterproductive. This is what makes them the best.

The Hofstra Pride Football team played their first game of the season this past Sunday against the University of Missouri White Police. The game was started with the ceremonial singing of the National Anthem by Robbie Rosen who was a finalist on American Idol. Being a finalist on American Idol means he’s good at singing. It also means Hofstra was mentioned on national television because of American Idol finalist Robbie Rosen. Robbie Rosen was also a finalist on American Idol. ROBBIE ROSEN WILL NEVER NOT SING THE NATIONAL ANTHEM AT HOFSTRA. After American Idol finalist Robbie Rosen sang the national anthem, the teams huddled up by their coaches. U Missouri was given a thoughtful speech by Coach Officer Darren Wilson, but no player believed a single word of what he said. The Hofstra Pride’s Coach, President Stuart Rabinowitz, opted to show a video tape of himself giving a thoughtful speech instead of giving it in person. As Coach President Rabinowitz watched himself deliver that speech on the screen, he seemed oddly aroused.

With both teams itching to get their hands on each other, the game was started. U Missouri kicked off to the Hofstra Pride, and Junior Greg “Legs” McGreg caught the ball and ran it an estimated twenty yards; there are no more yardage lines on the field since it is used primarily for Hofstra Lacrosse. First down. Senior quarterback Dan “The Man” Danielson threw a beautiful spiral pass to Sophomore “Curious” George Schwartz who ran it all the way to the end zone where his teammates formed a human staircase, and Schwartz dove through the field goal, resulting in no points being scored. Second Down and one micro penis from the end zone. Danielson threw the ball straight up into the air where Sophomore Kyler “As Fuck” Jenkins, floating on a cloud of vape smoke, was able to catch the ball and score that sweet touchdown the team had been craving. As Jenkins walked back to the bench, Coach Lord President Rabinowitz gave him a slap on the ass in such a way that it reminded Jenkins of his Uncle Steve. Jenkins ran off the field in tears. All those years in therapy were gone in a flash. Freshman Bobby “Fresh2Death” Fillet was subbed in for Jenkins in the second half of the game. This is 4 on 4 street football.

Bottom of the last and the score is all tied at 9.2 to 9.2. Coach Chancellor President Rabinowitz was being woken up from recently fainting due to all the young male exertion that had happened. In a freak “I didn’t do it” accident, Coach Officer Darren Wilson had shot the brown football as it traveled past him, so the teams were now using Coach Iron Chef President Rabinowitz’s recently circumcised foreskin blown up to the size of a regulation football as the game ball. Dan “The Man” Danielson huddled up his team, and they all knew the plan. Every member of the team kissed the ball for good luck. Danielson made the call, “Is bearz big dogz, set, HIKE!” The White Policemen instantly tackled Danielson and killed him, but not before he tossed the ball backward to Bobby “Fresh2Death” Fillet who caught it in his Lax stick and catapulted it into the end-zone. In an unprecedented turn of events, Austin “Very White” Black, an eleventh year senior, did a double nollie heelflip into a grind on the goalpost before getting hit in the face with the ball. The ball actually lodged into Black’s head, but the refs counted it as a legitimate catch. Coach Senior Prom Queen President Rabinowitz cried over the thought of, “what if my foreskin had still been attached?” The Hofstra Pride got the W; what a great day to be a Hofstra student. We. Got. That. Hofstra Pride.

That was the last game for the Hofstra Pride football team because SGA decided to cut their budget, and also because two players died tragic brutal deaths.

19: the age of discovery. The halfway point between life and death. By this time, my ancestors would already have had two wives, eight children and would be highly respected members of society until they died of hay fever in their early thirties.

Just kidding, my ancestors would have been picking cotton and getting whipped. Regardless though, in this modern age of fancy electronic gadgets and designer animal dildos, not having funds sucks. While my old “friends” [sic] from high school are all starting to make their first rent payments and exercising their newfound adult freedom, I instead sit in my dorm, sad and penniless, eating vegan pastas and jacking off to questionably legal pornography. The difference between their lives and mine? They, through use of satanic worship and black magic I assume, have acquired jobs while I still have not.

It’s not like I haven’t applied. Oh, I have! Just last week I applied to 15 different places, but let’s be honest: not many of them are going to call me back. In fact not a single one. Perhaps it’s the fact that on my resume, under “Skills” I simply wrote: “I’ll suck your dick for money (or pussy, this is 2015)”. It could possibly be my penchant for leaving potential employers harassing phone calls, threatening both them and their loved ones. Maybe it’s because I don’t have a business suit so I walk into interviews wearing only fishnet stockings and spray-on tramp stamps. Whatever the reason, the lack of work has started to really take a toll on my life and self-esteem. No longer can I look down on my peers for being poor as I slide by on my mummy’s above average paychecks. Now the very same people I laughed at for having to choose between a new iPhone or a month’s worth of food are lording over me for still having to ask my Mum for train money. Now this is what I call an institutionalized system of oppression!

The situation is getting desperate as I run out of precious time. I once knew a guy who turned twenty years of age without getting a job and now he’s having sex with his dog. I don’t want that to be my life. Not yet. I tried applying everywhere from Biglots to Backpage with the same result every time: “Nudes or GTFO”. So, I’m taking the initiative. I’ve purchased a gun and am learning how to use it. As the old saying goes “If you can’t join ‘em, beat ‘em”. Crime is an 82164832.67 dollar industry and I plan to get a piece of that pie. And when I’m on trial, awaiting the death penalty for shooting a McDonalds manager for not reviewing my resume in a timely manner, the judge will look at me and ask, “Why? What drove you to do this?” I’ll simply look up at him (or her, this is 2015) and reply “This is what society drove me to do.” The room will awkwardly exchange looks of shame, and suddenly, I’ll no longer be the one on trial.

Do you ever feel like Red from That 70’s Show, and just really wanna stick your foot up someone’s ass? Well, the North Carolina Tar Heels are for you, and here’s the perfect to match. The baby blue color will bring you enough attention to distract the person whose ass you wanna stick your foot up, and there’s your chance. It’s a decoy and a fashionable hat: two birds, one stone.

Man, don’t you just wonder what the most obnoxious shade of yellow is? The Oregon Ducks have it for you with this snapback. Be the life of the party and turn up by blinding your fellow party goers with this hat. If you ever fear that you’re going to get hit crossing the street at night, never fear anymore as this hat makes you visible from a whole 40 FEET AWAY. That’s incredible, and for only $30.00, I think it’s worth it.

This hat is by a company called YUMS, and it is indeed yummy. Did you think that girls couldn’t do snapbacks? Man, are you wrong. The pink and purple trim just screams feminine, and that winky face emblem screams, “I’m available, fuckboys.” The camo also gives it a sense of earthiness, because any girl who wears this is just not like those other girls and needs the world to know, and I support them.

Ah yes, for the rare snapback wearing Star Wars fan. I forgot these existed. When you thought your excitement for the new movie as well as the old movies wasn’t quite satisfied by your Star Wars™ t-shirts, sweatpants, socks, cape, Darth Vader mask, endless amount of Pop! Figures, and any collectable figurine you can find, this snapback is on the verge of edgy, cool, and nerdy. It’s totally in right now.

This reminds me of the people I knew in Northern NJ who tried to drag race in their shitty beat up Chevy’s. They would drag race on the one stretch of straight road we had and skid out at the end. They most likely wore this hat, and thought they were whoever this Gordon person was in the process. So if this fits you, this hat is yours.

Remember those scene girls in middle school that would change the shoelaces of their beat up Converse or Vans in order to make them fluorescent colors and show off just how scene they were? This snapback allows for an even better opportunity for shoelace creative expression. It’s a hat with shoelaces. Show off your love for [insert sport team here] and try not to block out your mom’s voice in your head reminding you to “tie your laces, Jimmy”. Don’t fall short in getting some show stopping attention.

This one is probably my favorite. When I thought these snapbacks couldn’t get any better, this one is plaid. Hipsters, get ready, you can wear this to alternate with your daily flannel. “I just can never have enough flannel in my life, and on the days where my flannel is in the dirty laundry pile in the corner of my room after being worn for 5 days in a row, I now have another option,” says a satisfied customer.

This is the worst generation ever. Kids these days are the most ungrateful, disrespectful “swag” ridden little whippersnappers an old, wise veteran such as myself has the utmost displeasure of meeting. Time after time I try getting along with my grandchildren but all it seems they’re interested in these days are their stupid cellular devices. Vines? You know what kind of vines I had to deal with when I was your age? The vines in ‘Nam that, if you weren’t paying attention close enough, would pull you in and lock you away in the depths of the jungle for all eternity. Snapchat? Hell when I was a teenager we used to communicate using two tin cans and a string, or just plain old morse code. My point is, there is simply no mercy when it comes to kids these days and they’re all selfish. I tried politely asking them for social security money but they declined, scratching their heads, probably confused at what social security even is. So me and all my buddies decided to take it without their knowledge. Kind of reminded me when Johnny and I tried to flank this VC troop. Watching your best friend fade into a pink mist upon stepping on a landmine is a growing experience no “teen” will ever get to have these days. Thankfully there’s Minesweeper, which is close enough.

God I miss Johnny so much.

Anyway, deep down inside, I’m a nice guy. As I said before, I try getting along with my grandchildren but last time they visited, they kept going on and on about this “Sharkeesha” business. Well, after dedicating months upon months of research to this topic, I finally procured enough intel on the business and had myself a hearty chuckle, at least, as much a chuckle as having a single lung can allow. When they visited again this year I did a little hop, pivoted my mostly fractured hips towards them, extended my fingers (registered as weapons, of course) in the shape of two pistols, smiled, winked, and said “Hey Sharkeesha!” They were not amused. The younger one, Jared, looked down to the shoes on my feet and looked back up to his sister. The sinister smiles that grew upon their faces could only be rivaled of my drill sergeant when he found out I had irregular bowel movements at age eighteen. The little shit said, “Hey grandpa, I got one question for you.” He took a considerable dramatic pause before pointing to my vintage moccasins and yelled “WHAT ARE THOOOSE?!” before collapsing into a highly unnecessary cackle. How dare he insult my choice in fashion? I’m hip! I’m groovy! I’m down with the times, man! Sure I may not fully understand why people are so fixated on dead asses or why the “b” in “babe” was dropped. But I do know what it means to “ride the baloney poney” and I do, in fact, know what a trouser snake is, and damn well at that! So really, who wins here? Fuck you two clowns, I can at least vote for people with policies that benefit only me while you’re stuck surfing The Facebook and jacking off with the Nintendo Power Glove ™. So, squad, I’ll be on my finna way. One hundred, one hundred, laughing while crying yellow face, laughing while crying yellow face, asshole symbol.

By Charles BukkakeIt was an especially cold and bitter night when my wife left me. She had been banging my boss for a couple months and when I caught them on that cute futon I bought from Ikea just a week or two ago, I was fired the next day because “It makes the whole work experience awkward”. Traveling by foot back to my apartment, because that’s what recently unemployed divorcees do, I was mugged by a much larger gentleman whose skin color I shall not specify so as to avoid being called racist by anybody. Anyway, I got my umbrella jacked for whatever fucking reason and it started to rain almost immediately after. By the time I finally got to my apartment, I found a note on the door from my wife telling me to pack my things and leave. Yes I probably could have sued my boss or legally done something about this but the truth is, my wife is right about a lot of things, including the fact that I don’t have the balls to do anything about it. Anyway, I managed to work up quite the appetite so I decided that I might as well order some pizza from Domino’s, because product placement. I opened my computer and, much to my surprise, I found an odd picture, some kind of twisted abstraction, I think they call it “meme” but it was detailing a certain kind of pizza, or rather, a pizza that didn’t have any pizza at all. Indeed there was no pizza, just beef. I guess my daughter was using my computer again but before I could cross my fingers and awkwardly ask a series of vague questions to her, in hopes that she didn’t find my bookmarked babysitter porn, I thought hey fuck it, why not? This seems like some crazy diet thing and I could shed a few pounds. I was well on my way to ordering what, I did not know at the time was called, none pizza with left beef. No cheese, no sauce, no pepperoni, no Chad’s saus-sorry…Italian sausage, no mushrooms, no ham, no bacon, no anchovies, but beef. Oh yes. A normal amount of beef specifically on the left side of the pizza. It sounded a little weird sure but whatever helped me bond with my daughter aside from the ever-so-often “You don’t understand me”’s and “It’s not a phase, dad, why do you hate me?”’s and “Ugh you’re so embarrassing”’s every time I mention erections around her boyfriend. Within fifteen minutes the pizza came and with each bite I fell more and more into despair until I ultimately started to cry. My life couldn’t even give me the small pleasure of enjoying some fucking none pizza…with left beef. The dough was especially raw in some places and burnt in others and the oblong chunks of beef tasted as salty as the tears streaming down my face thinking about Karen and I’s honeymoon. My daughter walked in on me, asked if I was crying and I only responded “No sweetie, it’s just really spicy.” She shook her head in contempt, as they all do, and while she was leaving she turned her head slightly, her back still facing me, she said “Mom called. She heard you got fired and just wants you to know she’s not mad, just disappointed.”

I never understood why anyone would want to be a vegan until a week ago. Before that I was all too content with shoving large volumes of meat into my mouth. Choking on it, seeing how much my throat could contain in one sitting, swallowing the thick, sticky byproducts. Hell, sometimes I even ate animals. But all that changed when I attended a PETA rally in south Soho. You see, I never knew that by eating meat I was doing anything wrong. Like murder or kidnapping, it seemed harmless as long as I paid for the privilege. I never knew animals died to become food. I thought it was closer to Pokemon, where a chicken just sort of becomes boneless wings when it hits a certain level; or my neighbor’s dog disappears and we suddenly have steak for dinner (but that was a hard winter and I don’t want to talk about it). The rally shed a whole new light on the issue. Meat was murder. Everyone I knew and loved was basically Jeffrey Dahmer and that wasn’t okay.

I woke up the next morning renewed. This was my first day living a vegan lifestyle and I was very excited. I didn’t know of any vegan places at the time so I went to McDonald’s for my first meal. When I got there I was glad they had lots of vegan choices like: salad, sodas and fries. And before you judge, yes I know McDonald’s cooks their fries in animal fat, but I think it’s wonderful that they’re taking the initiative to help these animals slim down. That’s like extra vegan if you think about it, so I got a large order. When my food was ready I went to sit down near like-minded people, but was horrified to find out there wasn’t even a vegan section in that particular McDonald’s. Yelp score: 1 star. I ate quickly, praying that the barbaric meat eaters wouldn’t notice me and decide to make me their next meal. Thankfully, they kept their insatiable lust for flesh to a minimum and I was able to escape. What a close call. My first day of veganism was already off to a great start!

Pretty soon it was time for me to go to work and I was excited to show off my rockin’ new bod to all those jealous chodes at the office. I first spied my-coworker, Karen, snacking on a meat stick.

“Oh hey Karen,” I said. Veganism made me super nice, I even talked to Karen in public now. “Oh, you still eat animals? I mean, not to judge or anything, but that kind of makes you a bitch.” She just stared at me in disbelief. She must’ve been awestruck by the way I stood up to her. She had just opened her mouth, to thank me no doubt, when our supervisor David happened to walk up.

“What’s up, peons,” He greeted as usual. “What are you fat sacks of shit doing today?”

“I’m a vegan now.” I replied with a humble smile, making sure I was saying it loud enough so the whole office could hear how humble and nonchalant I was about being so much better than them.

“Good for you,” He said, patting me on the back much like one would a dog or a very likable prostitute. “Karen, why can’t you be more like Worker #701959242 here?” Then he slapped the Slim Jim right out of her disgusting carnivore talons. “Keep this up and you’ll be back on the streets Karen, I mean it.”

After we put Karen in her place, I went to work. I sent emails to everyone in the office telling them that they’re all definitely going to hell for eating animals and it was gonna be sad to watch the devil force them to swallow his meat, but whatever, it’s not my place to judge. Having felt so fulfilled for having alerted every one of their sins, I decided to leave work seven-and-a-half hours early. I knew David would understand. He’s the only one who wasn’t a complete fucking idiot.

But on my way home, I noticed my good friends PETA protesting outside of a Kardashian book signing. I was so overjoyed that I swung the car across three lanes of traffic and over 2 sidewalks, ending the lives of eight pedestrians in the process, but they all probably ate meat anyway so they more than likely deserved it. I got out of the car and ran up to hug the cult leader, but instead of being greeted with cheers and kisses, I was drenched in deer blood from a bucket they threw at me. It wasn’t even vegan deer blood substitute!

“Murderer!” They screamed at me.

“What? What are you talking about?” I begged. “I’m one of you! I’m a good noodle!”

I could not believe they were being so judgmental! I thought being vegan was about being nice and accepting one another, not throwing shade because of the way a person dresses! I got back in my car—ruining the authentic leather seats with deer blood might I add—and sped off. Well actually I spun around and ran over as many PETA members as I could, and then I sped off. I had never felt so betrayed. I decided I owed someone a serious apology. I went back to my office and walked right up to Karen.

“Karen,” I said with tears in my eyes. “I have something to say…”

“Yes?” She asked hopefully.

“I need to apologize—“

“I accept!” She blurted out before I finished.

“—To David. I’m not vegan anymore. Could you give him the memo? Thankies.” And with that I drove off to enjoy a nice wholesome meal at my local, organic Taco Bell.

Wow, hello, I can’t believe I’m saying this again but, welcome to this issue of Nonsense Humor Magazine. After all of the run-ins with SGA and the entire student body’s continued apathy/lack of support/general disgust towards us I thought somebody would have just brought us out back like a group of old dogs and put us out of our misery by now. But, here I am, writing my last editorial for this magazine that has put me through the most uh… interesting past 4 years of my life.

I honestly never thought that I’d get to write another editorial for this magazine again. I really thought that every single person on the staff would leave me cold and alone in the back of the student center while I waited for OSLA to finally pull the plug on the whole operation. I assumed that as soon as someone found out I (allegedly) was responsible for getting a teenage boy to have sex with a jar of marshmallow fluff and shotgun a four loko (separate events (both for research)) they’d lock me up in Hofstra jail (ABP during lunch time, am i right guys?? lmao). At any rate, we are still safe (for now) and ready to begin a whole new year of bad photoshops, SGA hearings, drastic staff changes, and public safety brief shout outs. And hey, aren’t you guys lucky?? You’ve decided to give us a chance and check out this very special “green” issue.

Now, when I say “green” issue, I’m not talkin’ environmentally friendly. I’m talkin’ greeeeen. That green stuff, that good good, those dollar bills, etc. Green makes Hofstra and the rest of the world go round! So, we over here at Nonsense Humor took on the task of getting down to the root of all things green.

I am delighted to inform you all that the future of this magazine is looking bright. This new 2015-2016 staff is now being led by TWO Nonsense all-stars, Heather Levinsky, and Zach Johnson. Two people who I firmly believe will help this publication gain the respect it deserves from this university and lift the curse that rests upon us. We’ve also got a new design director in charge of making all of these [issue] pages look good, freshman Gill Pitzer, who has already proved themselves to be very good at their job. This staff is more well organized than a Nonsense staff has been in a long time and I couldn’t be any more proud of this group of actual miscreants.

This magazine has been my life for 4 years now and has taught me everything I know about what it means to be a part of a creative community. It has shown me how very important a club like Nonsense is to Hofstra University. This place needs people like these to investigate what actually is going on here. Are you all aware that there is actually something called a “master plan” in place by the administration?? I’m not kidding about that and you can read about it in an upcoming issue of this magazine.

But seriously you guys, I am very sad to let this thing go. We made many mistakes and just as many accomplishments together these past few years. I didn’t get to do everything I wanted to for this magazine in the time I was editor but there was and is still so much work to be done in order to make this thing excellent. Thank you to all of you reading this right now, and thank you to the people who are hate-reading this because our haters are most certainly our motivators. I love you all. Bernie Sanders 2016.